


Shared Observations

by koritsimou



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, I hope you like softness and smiles, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:57:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koritsimou/pseuds/koritsimou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is cold - an unexpected occurrence in his usually carefully temperature-controlled apartment.<br/>Grantaire is to blame, but not in a way Enjolras expects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shared Observations

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tumblr user (and artistic wonder and general gem) [perplexingly](http://perplexingly.tumblr.com/), who asked me to write her affectionate Enjolras.  
> Originally posted on my tumblr, where you can find other prompt fills under my [my writing tag](http://asongbirdandanoldhat.tumblr.com/tagged/i-wrote-a-thing) (I personally don't think it's worth posting any of my stuff under 2000 words here on AO3) and where you're more than welcome to [leave me a prompt](http://asongbirdandanoldhat.tumblr.com/ask) too.
> 
> This is actually set in the same au as my jehan/parnasse stuff but there is literally no way you would be able to tell. About halfway through their fourth year of university, so a little after An Amalgam of Desires in terms of timeline. In case anyone was in any way interested.

Enjolras sits up from where he’s spent the last hour or so hunched over his laptop and cracks his back. He glances suspiciously around his bedroom; his window is closed, though his door is open, but as he hasn’t touched the thermostat (and everyone that has ever been in his apartment knows better than to touch it) that shouldn’t matter, and yet, he’s cold. He pulls at his t-shirt where it’s riding up at the small of his back, and sighs when it determinedly springs up again as he rolls his stiff shoulders.

He should be sitting at his desk, he knows, but he’s not as oblivious as his friends often joke. Enjolras has noticed a pattern to the mornings he gets to wake up with Grantaire; that when he sits down properly to work, Grantaire starts making noises about leaving. To combat this, Enjolras has developed a strategy. He starts by reading the news on his laptop - this apparently, is okay, and not a cue for Grantaire to leave - in bed, in the morning, and slowly transitioning from link-hopping on his four favourite news sites, to reading his philosophy notes, or working on his politics assignments, on the sly. Maybe he’s being selfish, because watching him study can’t be interesting, but Enjolras will choose the slight physical discomfort from working on his bed, with Grantaire beside him, over the distracting mental discomfort of Grantaire’s absence (and being its cause), any day.

Grantaire has a book open over his chest, a novel Enjolras hasn’t had time to dip into in weeks, but he isn’t looking at it. He’s watching Enjolras expectantly. “What are you doing?” Enjolras asks him, sounding more accusatory than he intends. He should get up and put on a sweater.

“Literally nothing,” Grantaire answers, defensively. “You can’t possibly be finding me distracting.”

 _I always find you distracting_ , Enjolras thinks, but says instead, “Why are you over there?”

“Over where?” Grantaire asks, confusion writ across his face. He drops the book and pushes himself up onto his elbows. “I’m right here. There’s like a foot of space between us, max.” That Grantaire doesn’t recognise the problem in that causes Enjolras’ frown. “What?” Grantaire prompts, seeing it.

“It’s a foot too much,” Enjolras says quietly, as he drops his gaze back to his laptop. Grantaire huffs a soft laugh, as Enjolras watches his cursor blink. Suddenly, realising why he’s cold, Enjolras glances at Grantaire again. “Come here,” he instructs.

Grantaire may roll his eyes as he dutifully shuffles closer, but he doesn’t hide his ‘pleasantly surprised’ smile. Ignoring how he wishes fewer of the smiles he wins from Grantaire were tinged so, Enjolras complains that he’s not sitting up. Grantaire rolls onto his side and presses his face against Enjolras’ hip. “You’re cold,” he remarks, breath warm on Enjolras’ goose-pimpled skin.

“I know. That’s why I want you to sit up.”

Grantaire sighs and flops onto his back before sitting up. “Are you going to send me to turn up the heating?”

Enjolras turns to him. “You’re not allowed to touch the thermostat,” he says quickly, and predictably, and Grantaire grins.

“What then?”

In answer, Enjolras places his laptop to one side and, kneeling, pushes Grantaire backwards until he goes as bid, scooting back on the bed until his back hits the headboard. Grantaire’s eyebrows inch up his forehead as Enjolras looms over him. “Well, heating things up is one way to heat things up,” he jokes, hopefully.

Enjolras dips his spine to press a chaste kiss to Grantaire’s lips. Immediately, Grantaire lifts his face to Enjolras, but when he tries to return the kiss, Enjolras straightens up and smiles down at him, before turning around and settling himself between Grantaire’s legs. He leans forward and snags his laptop, then pulls it across the bed and returns it to his lap. To accommodate for their height difference, Enjolras has to slump down a little to lean against Grantaire. It’s probably still a poor choice for his back, but at least now he’s warmer.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Grantaire says, even as he wraps his arms around Enjolras. “Grantaire: convenient pillow.”

“Heated,” Enjolras adds, surprising himself when he realises it’s a heat he’s gotten used to, and that is why he was cold. He smiles to himself, unseen by the man behind him. “Convenient, _heated_ pillow.”

Enjolras can feel Grantaire’s own smile when he presses a kiss to Enjolras’ neck. “What are you working on anyway?”

“Nothing,” Enjolras says, too quickly. “I’m not working, I’m just-”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire cuts him off, prodding him in side; an action Enjolras responds to with perfectly dignified yelp.

Enjolras catches Grantaire’s hand with his own, sighs and asks “How did you know I was working?” His tone betrays his nonchalant expression; he is a little irked by the failure of his plan. Grantaire rests his chin on Enjolras’ shoulder, slumped in defeat, and smiles.

“Well, for one, I can read.” Grantaire lifts their joined hands to point at the laptop screen, displaying Enjolras’ unfinished politics essay. “And though admittedly it’s sometimes difficult to distinguish work from play, in your world, _that_ is definitely for class.” 

“And for two?” Enjolras asks, leaning his head against Grantaire’s.

“What?”

“You said that was one way you could tell. That implies there was at least one other.”

“Oh, well yeah, your face,” Grantaire says, like it’s obvious.

“My face?”

“Yeah, you had your concentrating face on.”

“I concentrate on a lot of things,” Enjolras says, and thinking in particular of what he was concentrating on last night, he adds, “I highly doubt my expression is consistent.”

“True,” Grantaire allows. “You have a lot of concentrating faces, but you had your uni work one on.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous. I don’t have a uni work face.”

“And how would you know?” Enjolras has no reply to this, and Grantaire buries his face in Enjolras’ curls to hide an embarrassed smile as he explains, “It’s not as angry as your ‘concentrating on the news’ face, but less excited than your ‘pet projects’ face.”

“I hate that phrase,” Enjolras mutters, referring to the umbrella term Grantaire uses for the many causes Enjolras actively supports.

“I know,” Grantaire says, and it’s not an apology, but Enjolras is starting to get a hang of choosing his battles when it comes to Grantaire, so he lets it go.

“It seems I have a lot of faces.”

“You do.”

“Do you know all of them?” Enjolras asks, genuinely curious.

“A lot of them,” Grantaire says, quietly. “Your face is kind of my specialist subject. But not all of them. Not yet.” They both smile at the ‘yet’, unbeknownst to each other.

“What about my ‘concentrating on you’ face?”

“What about it?” Grantaire’s casual acknowledgement that Enjolras has one is both a delight and a relief.

“What does it look like?”

Grantaire shakes his head. Enjolras can only feel it. “That’s just for me.”

Enjolras smiles, nods, and says, “Okay.” Then, “I was working on my Politics assignment,” like they’re trading secrets.

“And you couldn’t just say that, because?”

And if they are trading secrets, this is probably more equal to what Grantaire has shared with him, so Enjolras admits, “I’ve noticed that when I start working, you seem to think you have to leave.”

Grantaire presses his forehead to Enjolras’ temple. “God, Enj, there’s an easier way to keep me around than pretending you’re not busy.”

“I know what you’re going to say, but I always want to go back to sleep after morning sex, and at least my plan allowed me to get some work done,” Enjolras says, as he lets go of Grantaire’s hand to delete a long line of repeated Z’s, accidentally made when moving his laptop.

Grantaire laughs; a loud exhalation that is pleasantly warm against Enjolras’ neck. “Had that been what I was going to say, my rebuttal would address all points with just two words.”

“Oh?” Enjolras prompts, without turning round.

“Mmhm,” Grantaire murmurs against Enjolras’ skin, just under his ear. His fingers are trailing lightly up and down Enjolras’ sides, as he whispers, “Shower sex.”

“Oh.” Enjolras fingers still on the keyboard. He pauses, considering. “That’s... new.”

“Very refreshing,” Grantaire assures him, between teasing kisses to his neck, shoulder, the shell of his ear. “Restorative, even.”

Enjolras shivers as Grantaire adds a little teeth, scraping gently along his jaw. He gives in for just a moment, lets his head fall back on Grantaire’s shoulder, meets his mouth with his own. It’s lazy and slow, and Enjolras could do this all day, but when his neck starts to protest the angle, he reaches a hand up and tugs at Grantaire’s hair. Grantaire groans into his mouth, and it’s nice, but it wasn’t his aim, so he drops his hand again and pinches Grantaire’s thigh.

Grantaire’s head jerks upright, and Enjolras’ follows. He brushes their noses together apologetically, as Grantaire gives him a betrayed pout. Enjolras wants to kiss it away, but deadlines are things that exist, and which Enjolras likes to observe with more than Grantaire’s Douglas Adams-esque appreciation.

“I’m sold,” he says, resuming their discussion. “But later. I want to finish this draft.”

“I hate you,” Grantaire states, but he’s already picking up the novel he discarded earlier.

“I love you too,” Enjolras replies, feeling a thrill at the words, at the truth of them, even said jokingly.

He’s still watching Grantaire, so he sees the smile tugging at the corners of his lips, sees him try to fight it, as he says, “Just not as much as you love Professor Stevenson.”

“Don’t be jealous,” Enjolras tells him, as he turns back to his unfinished essay. “You’d understand, if you’d heard her tear apart Hobbes.”

“Yeah, I think that’s just a you thing, Enj.” Enjolras begins to form a response, but Grantaire cuts him off. “Now shut up. I’m trying to read. And you have an essay to finish.”

Enjolras turns his head, to watch Grantaire over his shoulder. He watches this contrary man, this tolerated presence turned friend turned lover turned partner, read a book he never would have chosen, content to spend the whole morning this way, a human pillow for an undeserving workaholic - because Grantaire is right that his downtime is rarely spent relaxing. He watches Grantaire and he is glad they can have this. That they can share quiet comfortable moments, even if Enjolras is working through them, whilst Grantaire keeps his boredom to himself.

“That’s it,” Grantaire says, interrupting Enjolras’ thoughts, without looking up.

“What’s what?” Enjolras asks.

Grantaire meets his eye and smiles, small and a little proud. “That’s your concentrating on me face.”

Enjolras returns his smile, and though he turns back to his politics assignment, his expression doesn’t change for some time.

 

Later, much later, after first drafts finished and showers shared (refreshing, restorative and numerous other adjectives besides), Enjolras sighs into Grantaire’s mouth in the hall, fingers brushing damp hair and yesterday’s clothes. He presses their foreheads together, squeezing drops of water from trapped curls, and watches Grantaire sweep them from his brow as he stoops to pick up his bag.

“What’s the easier way to make you stay?” Enjolras blurts out, surprising himself. He feels his cheeks pink with embarrassment at Grantaire’s amused smile.

“Sorry?” Grantaire asks, enjoying this.

“You claimed you weren’t thinking about morning sex-”

“I never said I wasn’t _thinking about it_ ,” Grantaire interrupts with a wink.

“You claimed it wasn’t what you were going to say,” Enjolras corrects himself, watching Grantaire seriously. “I wondered what was; what is the easier way to make you stay.”

“This is,” Grantaire says gently, expression fond. Enjolras glances between them, brow furrowed, unsure. Grantaire cups his face with one hand as he explains, “Ask me. The easiest way to keep me around is to ask me to stay.”

“Stay,” Enjolras says at once. “Have lunch with me.”

It’s not a question but Grantaire answers, “Sure,” and Enjolras turns his head to press a kiss to his palm as he adds, “As long as you promise not to make it.”

“Done,” Enjolras promises, and Grantaire drops his bag and takes Enjolras by the hand. As he is tugged into the kitchen, Grantaire muttering about him never having any real food, Enjolras suddenly feels so warmed that he almost considers turning the thermostat down.

Almost.

**Author's Note:**

> I had such grand intentions for my e/R debut, and then fluff happened, and kept happening. But one day, there shall be e/R from me that is not shameless fluff. One day. _Soon._
> 
> Until then, I hope you enjoy my fluffy offerings, lovelies. Thank you for reading. As always, comments make me warm inside, and feedback leaves me grinning all day.


End file.
